Hard To Love
by SpookyZaragoza
Summary: Complications on a case leads to an argument between Holmes and Watson. Few days later this is what happens. Friendship between Holmes and Watson. Read i know you are tempted.


**So hey I am back after years of writer's block and roaming Fan Fiction reading everyone's stories without leaving a trace of my presence. But after thinking long and hard I have finally decided to give in and write a short dabble on one of the ideas that have been pressing into my creative side. A song based fic. Listen to it if you wanna, look it up, its called Hard to Love by Lee Brice.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own nothing! Can't afford to own anything.**

~Hard to Love~

Sherlock Holmes's shaggy black head lightly hit against the hansom interior causing his vocal cords to let out a faint moan. His most loyal and faithful companion sat across from him watching the limp body rest tiredly of the corner. Watson knew he should sit next to him and keep him from further hitting his head as the small jerks the hansom did as they made their way back to their home on 221B Baker Street but his selfish and hurt side was winning this time and wanted to watch his flatmate and best friend suffer for their actions. "As you friend not as your doctor." He whispered to himself trying to justify his decision. He yawned and looked out the window noting that London was much peaceful at 1 o'clock in the morning, everyone was safely at their beds asleep and only the drunks were outside aimlessly wondering the stone paved streets of London. The drunks and their sober friends who get woken up at the middle of the night to make sure their arrogant and selfish drunk friends make their way home safely were the only ones roaming the streets this late at night. Without a single thanks the next day when they wake with their bothersome hangover just like a child who falls asleep in the couch and wakes up in the morning in their beds and don't thank the one who made sure they were put in their comfortable bed so they don't wake up in a bad state to start a new day.

Just the idea of Holmes thanking him for his trouble made Watson scoffed.

After the hansom arrived and the driver helped the doctor with his unconscious friend get out of the cab Watson quietly entered the flat careful to not wake the landlady but it was a waste of effort for she was waiting for him at the bottom of the 17 steps.

"Oh thank goodness you swallowed your pride Doctor and went to fetch Mr. Holmes." Mrs. Hudson grabbed the other arm of the consulting detective and helped them make their way up the stairs. "I know he said things that hurt your pride as a doctor and his biographer but sometimes we must remember that Holmes is-"

"Insensitive" Watson finished for her as he let out a groan from the new weight his leg had to sustain. After the last step they entered Holmes' room and they carefully settled him into his bed.

"I couldn't leave him in the streets outside the pub doctor. Who knows what kind of people lurk the streets at night and with a drunk asleep in the streets of London their fate for that night is unpredictable. A fight, a night in Scotland's Yard or even an accidental fall in the Thames River could happen to him or any one with too much alcohol in their system." The landlady argued softly as she watched Dr. Watson removed his best friend's boots. "The argument is one thing and his disappearance for two days only adds up to what that man's mind has been thinking for these past days. Don't tell me you haven't been worried of his whereabouts doctor? I know you are a busy man with your patients but I know he has at least crossed your mind as you eat your supper and the chair across you is empty." Watson let out a sigh knowing she was right but not as he sat in the dinner table but as he sat in his desk and there was no constant noise in the background to distract him these past two days. "So waking you up as I received the telegram of his location was only the most logical thing to do. Even though you haven't slept and might not get but barely three hours of sleep tonight but you needed to be there for him because he needs you doctor. I shouldn't have to explain his character but Mr Holmes has-"

"A tendency to pay more attention to the things he needs, I know Mrs. Hudson. Now don't you worry I will keep an eye on him just to make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit tonight for god knows what he has been up to these days. Hopefully it's just drinking and not cocaine." The doctor turned Holmes on his side and placed the waste basket besides the bed. As the landlady closed the door and bid goodnight Watson moved a chair close by to keep a close eye on the sleeping man.

"Holmes if you could just trust me with more information on your cases then this whole argument wouldn't had happened and we wouldn't be in this situation." Watson whispered as he brushed the black locks away from the pale face that belonged to Sherlock Holmes. "You are lucky I didn't leave because of your harsh words because you would have done it if you stood where I stood." He covered his face with his hand and leaned back on the chair. "You are a hard man to love but we both need each other… at least I do." Watson closed his bright blue eyes and yawned again and wrapped his coat tightly against his body as he watched the sleeping form rest.

The heavy curtains didn't let any light entered uninvited into the room and Sherlock Holmes was for once thankful of the landlady's taste. His bed felt much more comfortable than he remembered and he missed it but as his brain finally began to process how he even got home or why he even was able to convinced himself even in a drunk state to step back into the flat he no longer shared with his best friend. The only man who faithfully followed him and took all his verbal abuse and his short fuse temper that often wrecked into the doctor's heart, or as of late, his pride. The last case he needed Watson to be less informed so he could successfully solve the case because he knew that Watson was a horrible liar and the man he needed to catch was an acquaintance with the doctor than he couldn't let him in otherwise the case could be jeopardize. But for every action there is a reaction and to get Watson less involved he needed him gone so he wouldn't interfere and what better way to get rid of him than to offend him. Hit him where it hurt, his pride as a doctor and as a writer.

That's where he should have clued him in, that it was just an act and not to be taken serious but like always Watson was not only a horrible liar but also a horrible actor so he couldn't. He would just had to hope that his Boswell would continue to be loyal to him and return to him no matter the verbal abuse but his temper got a hold of him and his doctor let out a punch to the detective to shut him up and that was totally not the result he had planned so he snapped and used him boxing experienced and landed a hit on his friend so hard that it sent him against the wall causing a scratch on the poor doctor's cheek.

_Is this what you think of me? Then consider us done Holmes. _His Watson said as he examined his blood.

_Wouldn't have it any other way old boy,_ He responded wittily.

_I'm out._ Watson murmured as he left.

Holmes had of course closed the case, man behind bars, reasons for his killings explained to the idiots of the Scotland Yard but as he drove home he replayed the incident over and over thinking that Watson was just bluffing and he didn't mean what he said. That man always forgave him, always gave him a million second chances but for some reason he had a feeling that maybe a million and one were just enough. No more second chances, that was just the limit and he had just wasted the last chance.

He always took the doctor's love and friendship for granted and now he wished he didn't. His graceful presence would no longer linger around the flat. Holmes couldn't go home if his home would not feel like home no more. So he did what any illogical man would do at his situation. Go for a drink.

Now here he was, in his room. Three days after the case was close and already the house felt different. His headache was slowly coming to his attention and Holmes knew it was time to wonder into the cold sitting room where that chair would remind him of his mistakes.

As he slowly made his way in to the bright sitting room he could see a familiar figure sitting on the left chair besides the fireplace. The newspaper rustled as the page was turned and a graceful hand picked up a china cup of tea and disappeared behind the tall newspaper.

"You sure don't make it easy for me old boy." Watson said as he folded the paper and stood up.

"You are here?" Holmes was shocked to find his deductions wrong, he didn't leave. Not after taking advantage of him and his faithful friendship. "I couldn't do it if I stood where you stood." The detective confessed.

"I know. You are a hard to love and you don't make it easy." Watson responded as he poured his best friend a cup of tea.

"I don't deserve this but I love that you love me." Sherlock whispered to himself and looked at the blue eyes of the doctor as they examined him from across the room. "Good." He responded cheerfully walked to the mantel to grab his pipe and sat on his chair as his Boswell rolled his eyes of the detective's enthusiasm.

**That is it. Look it up. Good song. I don't know if the music is a liking to many ears but raised in the south and this is a nice reminder for me hahah. **

**Come one and leave criticism because I know it was kinda blah but hey I got ya to read it didn't I? **

**PS I know my grammar sucks! **


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